Macabre Events
by Josie Okami
Summary: Fox was hardly excited when he moved back into his childhood house. Peppy, Slippy, and Falco decided to throw him a birthday party. Who was to know what would happen next?
1. Hell is What You Make of It

Disclaimer: I don't own Starfox or any of the characters, places, or so on that tie in to that. However, I do own this story, and I own all that entails with it, such as made up characters, places, and events. This story takes place when Fox is 22, which in relation to the game is four years after the defeat of Andross. After those fateful wars, Fox's health slowly went down hill, as he developed epilepsy it can start up any time at any age. Enjoy, this is my first try at the horror genre.

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_To find peace, one must seek it. To find love, one must fall. To find me, one must find hell_. -Fox

Chapter 1: Hell is What You Make of It

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'_Hell_', Fox thought to himself, looking aimlessly out the window of his parent's old house. Who knew that a place that used to hold such fond memories, would now be the embodiment of that ideal.

He didn't, but then again, he really hadn't wanted to return to this house either. It was welcoming in the past, yet now had a sense of foreboding to it. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't want to appear like a child to his friends, a child that would go crawling to their houses late at night, whining because of a shadow cast on the wall that had frightened him. He slowly turned his gaze into the home; it still looked the way it did the day his parents died. He couldn't believe that the bank hadn't informed him of papers to sign in order for him to legally procure the house. He remembered, with a small laugh, how he'd found out rather by mistake. After all, who goes to the bank to get a loan, and finds out they have a house (and mortgage) waiting for them?

Fox shuddered slightly, his wandering mind returning to the present, and was almost sure he felt some one staring at him, that burning feeling you get when an unknown body has fixed their eyes upon you. He relented to his fears for a moment before the phone rang, sending a jolt of surprise through his body. He picked up the receiver, and tried to cover the almost obvious fear in his voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, I've been calling for half an hour, where were you?" Falco's boisterous voice came out over the receiver. Fox felt a sweep of relief come over his being when he heard that obnoxious bird. "You're not weirding out on us again, are you?"

"No, just busy...unpacking. So, when are you all coming over?"

"Here shortly. This is going to be on heck of a party for you, man," Falco's voice broke off as, from what Fox could tell, yelled at someone who had apparently taken the last of his favorite beer. Curse words flew about between his avian friend and, what sounded like, and old woman. It was Fox's birthday, and all his friends were coming over to celebrate it as well as a house-warming party. Why not tackle two in one, was their philosophy. Fox casually glanced at the living room, how wide and spacious it was, at least twenty by fifteen. It had a high-rise ceiling, a direct result of the design of the upstairs. The floor was hardwood, with a five by five carpet in the foyer. The kitchen was to the left, just a doorway to alert you to it's presence. A modest living room was just to the right of the front door, it's doorway next to the landing of the stairways, with had a slight slope in the center of it's steps (overuse). Two bedrooms took up that second floor, the way the staircase and banister were, as soon as you hit the top of the stairs, you turned left and walked ten feet before coming upon the first bedroom. Then you walk another ten feet, turn left again, and walk for twenty feet before the doorway to what had been Mr. and Mrs. McCloud's room. Each walkway was about four feet across (ample room for young kits to play tag on), with hardwood floors and long, cheap rugs with designs meant to fool one into thinking they were more than thirty years old.

"Hey, you haven't had any more of those seizures, have you?" Falco asked seemingly nonchalantly, but concern was clearly being suppressed. Fox had developed epilepsy shortly after his fight against Andross, unaware that it wouldn't be his last time fighting the huge Ape-head. Doctors suggested it might have been the strain, or genetics. None of Fox's relatives had been alive, so testing blood samples wouldn't have merited them results. He was prescribed anti-convulsive medications, on the strict instructions to take a dosage every eight hours, but Fox being the young kit that he was, figured missing some medications every now and again wouldn't really do any damage. The last time he'd ventured to do this, though, he had the biggest one of all. Slippy had tried to restrain him, injuring Fox in the process. As a precaution, should anyone suppress his body again, his doctor gave him painkillers and syringes, which Peppy made him put in the drawer, under the phone, along the right wall of the foyer.

"Falco, I'm fine, don't worry. I've been taking my meds, and I feel great," he lied through his teeth. Now that he thought of it, his face had tweaked once or twice. _'Let's see, the doctor said to take the anticonvulsive medications every 8 hours. Hmmmm...when did I last take it?_'

Falco's voice broke his concentration. "Well, we just have to tie up some loose ends here, and we'll be right along. See ya, fluffy. –Hey, I said those are mine!"

" Yeah, yeah, later, bird brains." At the end of the conversation (and some chuckles at Falco's expense), Fox had forgotten what it was he had been apprehensive about. The house seemed a little less intimidating now that he had heard a familiar voice. But, just as he set aside his fear, another voice came over the phone, one he'd never heard before. It laughed in an unbearable high pitched voice, and, what actually sounded more like screeching, said, "I will find you, you can't hide..."

"What?"

Peppy's stern voice was now on the phone, "I said, don't forget to clean up the place a little. Who knows how filthy it is."

" Oh, I thought...never mind. Yeah, I'll clean up a little." Fox ran his hand through his white stripe on his head, surely he'd heard correctly, some weird screeching, or maybe it was an over worked imagination. He carried on the conversation for a few more minutes, said his goodbyes, and hung up the phone and proceeded to the kitchen. He noticed something was amiss in the room, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Fox reached out his hand to grab his cigarettes on the table, when a red droplet landed on his extended limb. He was completely startled by this. He checked his hand, turning it over. Another droplet hit his palm. He decided to further inspect the unknown substance by rubbing his fingers of the other hand in it.

' _What the...' _he thought, as he figured out what this liquid drop was. "Paint?" He hadn't been painting anywhere, especially not in red. He looked up to the ceiling, and saw nothing. No evidence what so ever of the source of the red paint. **Drip drop.** Some more droplets hit the ground. '_They seem to be coming from the ceiling..'_ Fox thought to himself, and proceeded upstairs to investigate this oddity. He would've liked to turn tail and run, but what would he say to the others? 'Oh, why am I running and screaming? Some paint landed on my hand.'

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Well, that's it for chapter 1. Sorry that it's short. R&R please. 


	2. Light and Dark

Chapter 2: Light and Dark

_He was born in the light, and cast into the dark. Pain is his companion, and misery is his life._ -Peppy

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Fox cautiously walked up the stairs, and walked across the walkway. He poked his head into his old room, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the boxes he'd used to move in with, still packed, and his bed, with its layers of dust. There were other articles of his lying about. He continued down the loft towards his parents' old room. Still, nothing unusual. Only a lot of dust. The pictures were still up on the walls, and the bed still lay made on the opposite wall. The dresser was starting to fall apart, but he'd worry about that some other day.

Something suddenly bumped and rattled in his room. He perked up his ears, as he turned to look in that direction. Fox slowly walked down the loft towards the sound, and found that all the things in his room had been unpacked. His clothes were in his closet, his guitar in its stand, and his pictures on the walls. Was he going mad? Hadn't this room looked uninhabited a moment ago?

He slowly stepped backwards, and turned as if to run, when he crashed into the banister. The wind was knocked out of him, and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. The whole house then seemed to drop fifty degrees. Fox could see his breath, or what little was coming out of his gaping mouth. He was wearing a black button up pinstriped shirt, with black boot cut jeans, and black boots, so needless to say, he wasn't prepared for a sudden and dramatic drop in temperature.

His fingers were becoming numb, and his face was tingling. Something was definitely not right here. He couldn't explain it, but he had the urge to get away from here. Fast. He had to get up, had to get out of this house. Who cared if he seemed cowardly?

Fox slowly got to his feet, and was about to make a mad dash for the door, when he heard a sound he hadn't heard since he was a child. His own laughter. He turned his head to see the child version of him, staring at him with those cold, green eyes. Fox was in disbelief as he watched his self watch him.

"Daddy, let's play." The child said, speaking directly to Fox. Fox looked around, and seeing nothing or no one else around, turned back and pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face.

"Me?"

"You're funny, daddy." The young vulpine responded, smirking a little bit. The older Fox was stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do. He turned and starting hurrying towards the staircase. He had to go. Now. This was getting too weird for him. ' _I have to seek counseling after this._' He thought as he hastily approached his goal.

"Daddy, you can't leave," the youth said, with a hint of malice," We're just about to have lots of fun together. Stay."

This only made Fox pick up the pace to a run now, rounding the top of the stairs, and starting down them. After he got half way, he noticed that the stairs were moving upwards, and he wasn't moving at all. He looked over his shoulder to see his younger self at the top of the steps, holding out his hands, with an ominous look on his face. Fox could feel his heart beating at an incredible speed; it felt like it would fly from his chest.

"Come on, Fox, I told you, you can't hide. You can't and won't escape me. Now, be a good little fox and come here."

Fox had all he could take, so he jumped the banister, and fell ten feet to the floor. He twisted his ankle on the landing, but he didn't care. He immediately got up and made a break for the door, but something big was blocking it. It looked like a giant pig, about six feet tall, with rotting skin and horns coming out of its forehead and shoulders. Its fangs were two feet long, and its eyes were a deeper red than blood. It roared, stood up on its hind legs, and hit the ground so hard it knocked Fox down. It was on him before he could realize what had just happened. The creature slowly opened its mouth, saliva and blood dripping from its fangs, and started to enclose them on the helpless fox.

He covered his head and closed his eyes, but nothing happened. He laid there for what felt like an eternity, and still nothing. Fox slowly opened one eye, then the other to find no creature, nor any evidence to prove anything except him had been there. The droplet of paint on his hand was gone, and his ankle was no longer in pain. The receiver was off the hook, and he could hear Peppy yelling madly.

"Fox! Fox! Answer me! Are you ok?"

Fox got up, but immediately regretted it as his head started pounding furiously. He grabbed it, then reached and retrieved the phone that was swinging wildly to his right. His front faced the wall opposite the front door. His eyes trailed up to look at the open walkway, searching for the kit. Nothing.

"Peppy?" He couldn't hide the pain in his voice. While rubbing the back of his neck gently, he wondered how the phone got off the hook, and how it was that Peppy was on the other end of the line.

"Fox! Thank God. Are you ok? You were talking normal, then dropped the phone and started screaming bloody murder. What happened?"

Fox leaned on the table and thought about that for a minute. Is it possible he'd just had a seizurer? Then all that he'd seen had been induced by the convulsions. It hadn't been real. He felt a wave of relief pass over him.

" I just had a small convulsion, nothing to serious. I guess I haven't been taking my medications as diligently as I should be. Sorry."

Peppy went into a long speech about the importance of taking medications when one was appointed to, and Fox just agreed, throwing in the 'yes' and 'I understands' when he thought necessary, glad that all that had happened was just some convulsion-induced fantasy.

" Anyway, we'll be there in about thirty minutes, ok? Now, go take your medicine, all right? Bye."

" Yeah, all right. Bye." Fox hung up the phone, and ran up the stairs to grab his wallet, so he could run and get some more smokes, feeling a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He ran past his room towards a mislabeled box sitting on the walkway, then stopped short, and walked slowly backwards and looked in it.

It was all unpacked.

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Well, what do y'all think of that? Read and Review, please, and I will love you forever. 


	3. It Gets Worse

Chapter 3: It Gets Worse

_Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence._-- Falco

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Fox stared at his room, he couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes quickly and looked into the room. Nope, still unpacked. He was getting a little freaked out when he heard a faint sighing coming from his parent's old room. He was terrified, yet his overwhelming sense of curiosity forced him to take cautious steps towards the room. After all, he may have heard wrong.

He peeked into the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, ventured in. He looked at the serene surroundings, the pictures hanging neatly on the walls, the bed made with a tender touch, the full length mirror sitting opposite of the bed, and the long, white, see-through curtains rustling slightly from the draft the air conditioning vent made. Fox walked up the dresser, and picked up a picture of him and his parents.

It was taken at a picnic, not long before they died. His memories faded slowly back to that day, and he was just about to tag his mother, when the faint sigh could be heard again. Fox jolted from that summer's day into the room, and looked around for the origin of the sound. Nothing caught his attention right away, until he saw the sheets from the bed slowly moving up and down, as if someone, or something, were breathing beneath the sheets. Yet, there was no bulk one would normally see when someone lies in a bed. He took a few steps closer when he saw something under the quilt take form; it seemed to slowly rise from the mattress.

He took in a sharp breath. Then, the body-figure stopped, and the only movement that could be detected was the slow rising and falling of the sheets next to where the head appeared to be. Fox's hairs on his tail stood on end, as he slowly walked backwards towards the door. Fingers with green skin and a few patches of orange fur came out from under the covers, and griped them tightly. Then, the sheets flung back, and on the bed was what appeared to be his mother. On of her eyelids was gone, so a large, bloodshot eye stared at him nonstop before rolling out of it's socket. The skin on her muzzle was ripped off, showing the bone, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth. Some of her left side was missing, decaying flesh and organs were all that were visible on that side. Fox's scream pierced the whole house.

The stench of death was over powering, Fox put his collar up to his nose before turning to run. But his dead mother was blocking the door, staring at him. She reached her hand out to him, with a look of concern on her face, but that look turned to malice in the blink of an eye as she swung her outstretched hand at her son, hitting him across the face.

"Augh!" he cried out in pain while his hand touched where he'd been struck. She raised her hand to do it again, but this time, Fox ducked under her arm, going through the area where her left side should've been, and ran down the loft and down the stairs. He reached the door, and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He looked over his shoulder to see his mother, or what had been his mother, crawling on the wall, headed downstairs. Her stare fixed upon him, and she moved deftly across the wall.

She was almost upon him, when his door swung open, and Falco stepped in. Fox, who had been leaning on the door, was thrown onto the floor. Falco looked around for a second, and then spotted his captain behind the door picking himself up.

"Well, it's about time you started groveling. By the way, the others are going to be a little late. They had to stop and get something."

Fox peered up at him. '_I think I'd rather deal with corpses than him_,' he thought to himself. He suddenly remembered the corpse of his mother, and turned his head to look up the stairs, and spotted her, or it. It was just clinging to the wall, with that undeterred stare.

"What are you looking at?" Falco asked coldly, turning his eyes in the direction of Fox's. Falco emitted an ' oh my God' under his breath, and walked towards the stairs. He stopped in front of them, and looked up, looked directly at the apparition. Instead of screaming over it, though, he merely smashed a spider that'd been crawling on the wall.

"I hate spiders. You should call the exterminator out here." Falco shuddered, looking at the spiders guts.

"Wait, you mean you don't see that?" Fox yelled, pointing at the creature clinging to the wall. Falco looked to where he was pointing, and turned his head back to his friend and shook it. The avian then gave a concerned look towards his friend.

"Are you ok?"

Fox couldn't believe he was asking that. How could he not see the creature that was right in front of him? Fox just nodded his head, and let himself be led into the kitchen. He sat down, and lit a cigarette. Maybe he was hallucinating, after all, he hadn't gotten much sleep lately. ' _Yeah, you know what, that's it. This is all just some sort of delusion caused by sleep deprivation_.' That thought certainly made him feel better about the situation. Falco poured some beers into mugs that had been kept in the freezer for the past two days, and handed one to Fox.

He drank it quickly, and poured himself another one. He was just about to take a drink when he noticed something odd. Falco had stopped moving. The bird was frozen stiff. Fox waved his hand in front of his friend's face, but no response. The same voice he heard on the phone earlier came out of nowhere then.

"You thought just because your friend was here, I'd let you go? Ha! You are such a fool."

Fox looked around, and realized the origin of the voice was the foyer. He picked himself up, and rounded the corner quickly. There was nothing there.

"Stop playing games with me! What do you want?"

"What do I want?" the voice echoed, "I want you to die!"

The voice cackled after saying that last thing.

"That makes no sense, what would you get out of my death?"

"I just want to watch you suffer as you draw your last breath. Ha ha ha! And don't look so upset, it makes perfect sense once you understand."

Fox felt heavy after hearing that. No way could this thing have killed his mother. He'd seen her die in an explosion. How could he have done it?

The thing was about to speak again when he heard Falco cough from the flow of his beer. He headed into the kitchen, and eyed him. Falco looked at where Fox had been, then straight at him.

" How'd you move so quickly? You need to teach me that trick."

Fox was slightly surprised at this. Apparently, Falco hadn't noticed at all that some time had passed while he was in mid sip. At the risk of sounding crazy, Fox inquired if he'd heard anything. A shake of the head gave him his answer.

" Only you can hear me." It said in his ear this time. He turned quickly to see Peppy standing behind him, laden with bags of snacks, ushering in Slippy. Peppy looked at him for a moment.

" You should get more sleep, you look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled as he greeted Falco, poured himself a beer, and sat down. Slippy was fiddling with a bag of chips. Fox marveled at how oblivious they were to the goings on in the house. A cold chill ran up his spine as he felt a presence in the room. A low whispering sound echoed in his ears as his friends' faces slowly turned from delight into intense pain as they clutched their throats. Horrible gasping sounds came from their mouths, as their tongues lolled, and drool dripped down their chins.

Fox tried in vain to save them, but all he could do was pull and fight against unseen hands. They slowly stopped moving and twitched a little as they fell to the ground, in a semi-peaceful sleep, as tendrils came from the walls and held Fox against it. A black wisp of smoke filled the room, pouring out of his unconscious comrades' mouths. It took the form of a male cat, about thirty something years old. His fur was a light grey, his eyes blue. He wore a soldier's uniform that his father had worn, and an exit wound with dried blood around it adorned his forehead.

" Hello, Fox McCloud. It's nice to see you face to face, so to speak. I'm sure you're concerned for your friends, but I assure you, they will be fine. Afraid I can't say the same for you, though."

Fox looked into its eyes. They were completely empty of any known emotion. The cold chills got worse.

" What………are you?"

" A ghost, genius. Although, I prefer to be called an apparition, sounds a little less childish. In case you're wondering why I did this, I suppose we have to go back a bit. I'm Gregory Leggett, and your father and I were friends and teammates when he was in the force before the first Androssian war. You're father was arguably the best damn pilot and soldier in our class. He volunteered for missions, allowing himself to be captured and tortured for our further knowledge of Andross's plans. However, after a while, a paper trail started to form behind your father….some information didn't sync up. Not to mention, his information on Andross's movements and headquarters was never correct—we were always one step behind. I investigated James for a period of two years, and I had found out that your father was in league with Andross the whole time…..giving that ape top-secret insights to our inner workings, assault strategies, and future plans— "

" Stop it! You're crazy, my father is no traitor!" Fox had all he could stand. He couldn't believe that this thing was trying to convince him that his father would betray his country—his son—like that.

" Allow me to finish. I confronted him about it, and threatened to reveal his discretion to General Pepper, unless he came clean himself. He agreed, and wanted me to pick him up the day that he was supposed to turn himself in for treason. He waited until my back was turned—don't interrupt—and shot me in cold blood. I can still hear your mother screaming, and see you in her arms as a baby. I was buried under this house, in the basement. Your father, the honest man that he was, told Pepper that we'd made plans to come and inform him of a massive assault Andross was planning, but I'd never shown up to get him."

Fox stared in disbelief. He didn't believe this story. He tried to loosen the tendrils grip on his wrists without raising the suspicion of his captor. He failed, as the tendrils felt like they had cut off the circulation slightly. He bit his lip as the pain shot through his arms and worked its way into his shoulders.

" Don't believe me, huh? Well, then, how about if I were to tell you that your father isn't dead? He faked it, making sure there was a credible witness—", he pointed to Peppy's sleeping form," so that no one would question his death, so he could continue to serve Andross, helping him build armies. He even managed to get information from your ship's computer and the robot, to keep Andross updated."

" That's bull. And even if this were all true, why haunt me and not him?"

The cat leaned back for a moment, a slightly impressed look on his face. " Always asking questions, that's why I like you. You see, my soul is tied to this house. I need a vessel to leave here, and guess who the lucky body belongs to?"

Fox felt his face get hot all of a sudden. The pain no longer mattered, he had something new to focus on. " If you're tied to this house, how'd you learn all that?"

"Land of the living, so bound by your bodies weaknesses. When you're dead, all knowledge comes to you at your call."

" Yeah, I'm sure it does. I'm not going to be your 'vessel', so either let me go, or kill me."

Gregory looked at him, " I'm afraid you've no choice in the matter. Now, then, be a good little boy, and submit your body to me. It won't hurt—well, maybe a little, but not for long."

"Get bent!"

" Do it, or your friends die."

Fox looked at the faces of his friends as they slept. He couldn't bare to see them hurt, let alone killed, on his account. He lowered his head, and thought for a moment or two. If he let this……this thing take over, and if it's story was true, his father would die. If he didn't, he'd lose his friends, who were like family to him. If the story was false, he'd have some demented creature running around Corneria with a brand spanking new body.

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Hey, thanks for reading this renovated chapter. Let me know what you think now. 


	4. Takeover

Chapter 4: Takeover

_And here I thought insanity was relative._--Peppy

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Fox pondered a while longer. If Gregory spoke the truth, then he would have to let him kill his father because of his treacherous acts. He lifted his head, and met eyes with his, then surprised the apparition by spitting at it. Greg watched as the saliva sailed through him, and looked back at Fox, who now had a defiant look on his face. The cat rolled his eyes with a look that said, 'I can't believe you thought that'd work.'

" If that's the way you feel," he snapped his fingers and Slippy twitched for a moment or two and died. Fox yelled in shock, as one of his friend's life was gone, as if it were a fragile glass broken on the floor. He cried out in pain of his loss, and tears rolled down his face. He felt so heavy; it was as if his own weight would crush him.

" Why are you crying?" A small child's voice echoed in his ears. He looked to see the younger version of himself standing in front of him, with a distorted look on his face. " You should not disobey Mr. Greg, or else." The kit smiled in what would have been perceived as innocently, had Fox not known better.

Just as he said that, Greg had focused his attention on Falco. He seemed interested.

" Very well, if I can't have your body, I shall take his. He seems like a strong one, much more capable of getting the job done." He headed for Falco, his hands extended, reaching for him.

" Don't touch him, you freak! I'll kill you if…" his threat was cut short when the child thrust a pen into his hand. He screamed in pain, and could feel the warm blood oozing from the wound. The tendrils loosened, and let go all together. Fox sank to his knees, prying out the pen. The child stood over him, his eyes crimson, a sick smirk across his face now.

" I always enjoyed watching people suffer." The child ran his finger through the trail of blood on Fox's hand, and licked it. He smacked his lips.

Greg looked over his shoulder. He turned back to Falco, slowly turning into a black wisp of smoke and disappeared into his mouth. Falco's body stirred for a moment, shaking and occasional moan escaped his throat, and he shot straight up with a deep gasp of air. He examined his hands as he opened and closed them, and checked out the rest of his new body. He unsteadily stood up, and moved the body in almost all ranges of motion.

" Well, it has been awhile. It's nice to feel things again." He glanced over at Fox and the kit.

Fox was now standing up against the wall, while the kid stood an inch away from him, evilly glancing into his eyes. " It's been so long since I had a play mate."

Greg looked at him, and relished in the fear he saw in Fox's eyes. The kit kept his gaze, until he vanished into the air. Fox looked around. Then, not seeing him, he turned his sights onto Falco's body. He couldn't just let him walk out of there. He started forward, when a flash of orange flew across his path by a few inches. Fox stepped back, and felt immediate pain in his stomach. He looked down to see that the kit had slashed his stomach, and blood was dripping out of the wound.

He bent over in pain. He could feel the warmth of his blood soaking his hands. He lifted his head to see Greg on the move, heading for the opening of the foyer. He painfully stood upright, and ran to tackle him. Before he made it, Falco's body turned and with some invisible force, flung Fox's body up and hit the wall on the top floor. Fox fell, and landed on the second story landing. He looked through the banister to see Greg staring at him. He felt so warm now. He looked at the floor, and then back to Greg, only Greg wasn't there anymore. He looked around, then felt a presence above him. He slowly lifted his head to see a black glob-like thing with hundreds of eyes staring at him, razor sharp fangs dripping out of its three mouths. He tried to roll out of the way when he felt a deep, sharp pain jolt up his left leg. The thing had latched on to him with one of it's mouths, the others taking in air, and was putting increasingly more pressure on his leg. He yelled in pain.

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R&R, bitte. 


	5. False Betrayal

Chapter 5: False Betrayal

_It seems as though I can never really look forward to life, unless I look back. -_ Fox

Disclaimer: I don't own Starfox. Nintendo owns them.

Disclaimer 2:Theactions taken towards an epileptic in this chapter are not the correct way to handle that situation. Don't copy. For those who don't know, when a personis havingan epileptic seizure, you should never try to restrain them, or stick anything in their mouths. You should make sure that thier immediate surroundings are clear.I repeat, do not attempt to restrain due to possible injury to the victim.

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Fox kicked with his free leg at the giant black mass, but it was all a wasted effort. It's body simply absorbed each attack, putting it's teeth deeper and deeper into his flesh. A movement behind the thing caught his attention; Greg had wisps of black smoke emitting from his fingers that were connected to it. '_He's controlling it-that bastard_ ' he thought, his mind racing to figure out how to get the blob to turn loose of his leg.

His eyes darted all over his immediate surroundings, looking for something to throw. He grabbed one of the cylindrical pieces of wood that held the banister up, to steady himself. The thing started to thrash a little, like dogs fighting over their favorite toy. Finding nothing at his disposal, he nearly resigned himself to the mercy of Greg. Tightening his grip, an idea struck him. He yanked and pulled as hard as he could on the piece of wood, which was only held down by a nail in the floor and in the banister. After three good yanks, it's top cracked, obviously where the nail was giving way. Another pull had it completely removed from it's place.

Fox suddenly felt a sharper pain then any other shoot up his leg, and more warmth as the blood came out of the wound and soaked his pants. A holler of pain escaped his lips as he sat up halfway and threw the wood at Greg with all the strength he could muster. It met its target upside the head. The man, who'd been long dead and just newly gained Falco's body, reeled back, holding his bleeding head, screaming obscenities. The blob was severely weakened, and Fox used this moment to grab it's fangs, and start prying them open.

_Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop._ Blood had started trickling from his palms as more and more force was applied. After a few seconds, the things mouth opened wide enough for him to pull his leg out. He crawled backwards, dragging his aching leg, which was leaving a trail of blood.

"So, you think you're so smart?" Greg said, retracting the beast into nothing but smoke. His head was bleeding, but not as heavy as Fox'd hoped, "I must admit, it was rather clever for you to use barbaric methods. I had forgotten pain, and the frailty of the body in my many years as a spirit, but let me assure you, it won't happen again."

Greg set upon Fox faster than he'd ever seen Falco move. His hand was tightly gripping his neck, slowly getting tighter. Fox gasped, and tried to dig his fingers between Greg's hands and his neck. No avail. Falco's body heaved slightly to his left, and then an even greater heave to the right as Fox was flung over the banister and onto the floor below. The wind was knocked out of him, and blood ran hot from his mouth, as he soundlessly cursed his enemy, holding his leg. He rolled over and started to push himself up, every bone and muscle in his body begging him to stay on the floor. He turned his head to see Greg slowly walking down the stairs, a look of distant amusement on his face. Fox quickly turned around, looking for something, anything to defend himself with. Limping painfully, he made his way into the kitchen. He pulled drawers out of the counter, searching for a knife. He found the biggest of the bunch, and started limping for the foyer, weapon at the ready. He stopped, trying to pull his leg over Peppy's body, when he saw something black on his friend's side, held to his body by a belt. A gun. Fox looked from the knife to the gun, and chucked it over his shoulder, almost laughing at himself.

He yanked the gun from Peppy's side, and found it to be one of the later models, which packed a hell of a lot more punch then his current one. He stepped unsteadily out of the kitchen, cocking the gun, and aiming it, just as Gregory had stepped off the landing, meeting his stare. For a moment, he seemed to take the threat seriously, but that subsided, as he started to laugh.

"You idiot. Have you forgotten whose body this is?" Greg waved Falco's arms around, and continued laughing, "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you'd kill your friend?"

Fox wavered from his previous determination for a moment, and then regained it. His eyes steadied on his best friends body, "I'm not entirely sure that Falco wouldn't disagree with my methods. I'm sure death is no worse than—"

"You know nothing of death!" Greg shouted, his once calm exterior displaying rage. He lunged for Fox again. Except, he was ready. A tear rolled down his cheek, as his finger squeezed the trigger, all the while his mind begging Greg to stop. No such luck. A loud cry, then a bang echoed around the house, followed by a sickening thud of something hitting the ground hard.

Fox backed into the wall, then slid slowly down it. Tears profusely poured from his eyes as he stared at his friend's limp and lifeless body. The previous events played over again and again in his mind. Falco, lunging for him. His finger tightening on the trigger, then something odd occurred. Falco's eyes changed, they didn't have that sinister look in them, rather one of surprise and hurt. Fox had known instantly that Greg had left his body, and Falco was welcomed from the darkness he'd endured by the sight of his friend, firing a gun at him. Fox put his hand to his head, remembering the cry Falco had made.

"Fox, no…!" Before the shot had torn threw his shoulder. The whole was large, the exit wound larger, and blood spilled quickly on the floor. Fox crawled towards him, examining the wound, holding out hope that he might survive, if he got some help immediately. A gasp coming from Falco mad Fox fall back. Blood running from his mouth, and a dazed look in his eye, Falco turned his head towards the vulpine.

Before he could say anything, the avian cut him off, "Why…..why did..shoot me?" came weakly from his lips. Fox moved his mouth to respond, but couldn't manage any words. Instead, he put pressure on the wound, and reached for the table on the side of the staircase, which the phone was situated on, and pulled open the drawer. He always thought that putting a first aid kit in there was a rather dumb idea of Peppy's, but was now glad that he'd obeyed the order. Sloppily, it fell to the floor; it's few contents spilling out. Fox grabbed the roll of medical gauzes, alcohol, and some painkillers. He wasn't sure if it would help him, but he had to try. He held Falco down while he poured the alcohol into the wound. Falco yelped, and kicked and threw his mobile hand around, whacking Fox across the head, and landing his foot on his injured one. He fell over on his bird friend, groaning. After a moment, he pulled himself up, and held him down with more force.

Dressing the wound took five minutes, mostly because Falco kept hitting Fox wherever his fist would land, shouting at him for putting him in this predicament in the first place. The vulpine didn't pay much notice to the pounding headache which was the result of this. He pulled out the syringe, attaching the needle, then filling it with the painkiller. Falco's pupils shrunk as he saw the size of the needle, although Fox kept assuring him between punches to his sides that it was just a little prick. It would take more than that, though, to convince him. He fought harder against the aiding fox, cursing, biting, punching, and kicking.

"First you shoot me, pour burning acid into me, then you want to stab me with a needle!"

"Well, the pain's got to go away somehow. And it wasn't acid, baby –" He stopped while Falco's fist met with his eye, "-it was alcohol." The needle dug into the birds arm while he cried out more obscenities.

Finally, Fox let off Falco, and sat next to him with his legs outstretched. He advised him not to move, but then again, when has his teammate ever listened to him? Falco tried to move his right arm, and found that it was still too painful to budge. So, he used his other one to prop himself up, eventually coming to a sitting up position. He clutched his wound, murmuring darkly towards Fox. He stopped when his eyes came upon his leg, glancing over all the blood. Next, he saw the tear in Fox's shirt which showed a little of the cut he'd received, along with a puncture wound in one of his hands. Falco's curiousity was peaked. It was strange enough for him to wake up from a peaceful dream, to see his friend aiming the gun, but apparently a lot had happened during that time lapse. Fox had already started to dress his stomach wound, wincing as the alcohol hit the broken flesh.

His eyes next came on his face. A small cut ran across his right cheek, where he'd punched him, a few bruises on his neck and a black eye. Fox'd just finished his hand then. Falco nearly laughed at this, thinking that he must've blacked out, and given the friend the beating of his life. But, he wanted to know what he'd done.

"So, what happened while I was out?"

Fox slowly looked up at him, his eyes broadcasting pain, and slowly told him what'd happened; from the time Falco and the others passed out, to when his body was relinquished by Gregory. When Falco cocked his head curiously at the name, Fox relayed what the spirit had said. The whole thing took no more than five minutes to explain, but Fox felt like it was an eternity to talk about it. It was all so weird, and had happened so fast. Falco scoffed, "You expect me to believe that? Please, you're probably just delusional. And I probably drank more than I thought, blacked out, and kicked your ass."

"Well, then, genius, how do you explain Peppy and Slippy being ou-" A chill ran down Fox's spin when he remembered that Slip had been killed. He painfully turned his head towards the kitchen, eyeing his dead comrade, "I mean, Pep being out cold, and Slip being…dead.."

Falco's eyes widened at this, as he got up as fast as he could. He unsteadily stepped into the kitchen, leaving Fox behind. A minute later, Falco re-emerged with a distant look in his eye.

"He's dead, he's really dead………you killed him!" Falco pinned down Fox, hitting him with his free hand again, "You killed him, then came up with that lame story to cover it! You didn't get those wounds from a ghost, Slippy just fought back! I can't believe you, what'd he ever do to you!" Tears fell on Fox's face from his assailants as he tried to get Falco off him. He was about to punch him, but pulled it back when he saw the gauzes on his shoulder. He felt so bad about it; he couldn't cause him any more pain.

"No, I didn't kill him, I'm telling you, it was Greg!"

"You still say that this 'Greg' cat did it? Give it up, there's no one else here besides you, and you were the only one able to move! It had to be you!"

Fox yelped as he felt the control of his limbs leaving him. '_I can't have an attack now_ ', he thought. He yelled at Falco to get off, telling him he was about to have a fit, but Falco was so set on Fox being a murderer, that he didn't heed him. All his limbs went numb, and started shaking uncontrollably as Fox's eyes went distant, and gasps escaped his mouth. Falco didn't care, though. He restrained his former friend fiercely, hoping that it would cause him great pain, possibly an inkling of what Slippy must've felt.

After about six minutes of the fit, Fox slowly regained control of his body, his senses coming back to him. For a moment, he didn't have a care in the world. Reality bit him hard when he realized where he was and what had happened. The avian looked meaner than ever, almost murderous. Fox tried to say something, but due to the force his teammate was exerting on his chest, couldn't get enough air to muster anything half intelligible. Falco, after some time, got off Fox, dragging him to his feet. He left his bewildered friend standing there, while he went into the kitchen. The sound of drawers being dug through loudly came pouring out of the doorway. Fox half stepped towards the kitchen, but doubled over, clutching his ribs.

A chill ran down his spin suddenly. Fox recognized the sensation, and eyed the room, looking for him. He had to get what friends he had left out of there, before he had to take desperate measures again. He pathetically crawled towards the wall, turned his back against it, and started pushing with his legs to lift himself up. He moaned from the pain that shot up and down his wounded leg. The chill grew stronger.

He tried to move towards the doorway, but was too zapped of strength to do so. Falco's blue body popping out of it quickly made Fox's heart skip a beat. Falco looked at the spot where he'd left Fox, then around, quickly spotting him on the wall. The avian started towards him, but fell flat on his face as some invisible force wiped the feet right out from under him. He looked up, bewildered, trying to see what had done it. Fox called for Falco, and fell towards him, but the same invisible force knocked him across the room while he was in mid-fall, against the wall, and into a pained slouching position. He cried out in pain, then clenched his teeth. Blood came a little more profusely from his mouth, and a throbbing pain was centered on the back of his head. Fox looked around, and the muffled sound of Falco shouting at him could be heard.

"Fox, what the hell was that?" Falco looked around. He couldn't see the thing that'd done it, and was starting to think that Fox hadn't been lying to him. He turned to get a good look at the surroundings, then back to his companion. He wasn't looking so good. His head was tilted to the side, and his green eyes just stared straight forward, the only movement his body made was the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled just to keep that going. Falco stepped towards him, holding his shoulder, "Hey, Fox, are you alright? Answer me—Fox!"

His eyesight was a little blurry, he could just barely make out Falco crouching over him, trying to get him to respond. Fox tried to say something, anything, but couldn't make any words. He was aware of Falco laying him gently on the ground, trying to get him to move.

"Fox, say something, move something. I'm sorry I blamed Slip on you, I'm sorry that I hit you. Please, just be ok." Falco's voice was laden with sorrow and regret as he lean over Fox. He wanted him to die just moments before, figuring he was a murderer, not beleiving a word that came from his mouth; but now Falco regreted having doubted him and hurt him.

Greg appeared behind Falco, and smirked.

* * *

So, how do y'all like it? Let me know. 


	6. Broken

Chapter 6: Broken

_If I had only acted on my suspicions, this might all have been avoided._ —Peppy

* * *

The sun had started setting only a few minutes ago, casting an orange glow into the room.

Trembling, Falco let go of Fox, and headed for the phone. He had to get an ambulance there, fast. His body language conveyed reluctance as he left his friend's side, keeping his eyes on him until he reached the phone on the table. He had to carefully step over the contents of the first aid kit. He thought about how he'd need some medical service too, when he felt the wound on the side of his head earlier while Fox explained what'd happened. It hadn't been hurting that bad, but still would need to be checked. A movement caught his eye just as his hand was upon the phone, though. His initial reaction was to freeze, then he turned his head cautiously. A cat was leaning nonchalantly against the wall by the kitchen doorway, eyeing the vulpine laying almost straight on the floor. Greg turned his head back to Falco, and jerked his head towards Fox as a sinister smile spread across his muzzle, "You must admit, I did a good job on that one."

Falco glared at the apparition, clenching his fists, ready if he was hostile, "Who the hell are you?"

The cat lowered his head for a moment and sighed. He looked back up and into Falco's eyes, then sternly said, "I'm Gregory Leggett. I believe you've heard of me, so further explanations aren't necessary."

"So, then, all Fox had said was true…….you did all this…." He pointed first to Slippy and Peppy, his shoulder, and then to Fox. His gaze lingered on the latter, making sure that the rising and falling of the chest wasn't going to recede any time soon.

"Bravo. I was curious when all this would register with you. But, I can't take all the credit, you did some good damage all on your own, so..." Greg applauded loudly, still smirking at him. Falco felt his rage boiling to the top. He couldn't believe the audacity of this cat. He wanted desperately to kick this guy's ass, but what with him being transparent, it wouldn't have done anything except tire him.

"Fox told me you needed a body to leave this place," He glanced around, giving a wide gesture with his hands," so then why are you trying to kill us…….why'd you kill Slippy?"

"Slippy? —Oh, you mean that toad. Well, your orange friend here refused to aid me, so I used the toad to try and convince him. But, he's stubborn—," Greg, with his hands clasped reservedly behind his back, kicked off the wall and stepped closer to Fox, peering at the pained, distant look on his face. Falco moved quickly and appeared in front of Greg, obviously not willing to allow him any closer. Greg met his gaze, with a calm one,"—like his father."

Falco returned the stare with one of contempt. He couldn't figure out why he was incapacitating Fox, if he needed him so badly.

Vaguely aware of what was happening, Fox uncontrollably started coughing very heavily. His whole body arched and his hands shook as some droplets of blood flew out of his mouth, landing on the floor or his face. He used most of his remaining strength to turn on his side. All the blood that had pooled in his throat came pouring out while he continued coughing. Falco had crouched to his side by now, holding Fox steady while he finished. Not much blood came out, but if had felt like a lot to him. Fox looked up; his face had a disoriented look, like he'd just woken up from a mid-afternoon nap. He wanted to get up now; his eyesight had cleared while Falco and Greg were talking, although his hearing wasn't caught up yet. Everything had a minor echo, but he knew it'd be gone in minutes. He grabbed Falco's hands, and started to pull himself up. His teeth were gritted, and a pained look were etched in his countenance.

Falco was relieved that Fox was feeling well enough to stand. He would've made him lie back down, but what the cat said was true. He was immensely stubborn. Although the avian didn't think it wise to do so, he helped him up to his feet, slinging Fox's arm over his shoulder and holding on to his wrist, and wrapped one of his arms around his friend's small waist. This was an odd spectacle to see, because Fox was a whole foot shorter than Falco, so the bird had to stoop in order to pull this off. The dazed look hadn't really left Fox's features as he leaned against Falco.

"Well, this is really touching. But I've got business to tend to, so if you don't mind…" He used the same invisible force as earlier to lift Falco in the air, and throw him into the living room. He crashed violently into a table. He didn't move after that, knocked out. Fox had fallen against the wall behind him, cursing Greg while trying to make his way unsuccessfully to his fallen teammate. Gregory jutted out one of his hands in Fox's direction. Simultaneously, tendrils came from the walls again, and dug two into his back, one in each shoulder, and one in his wounded leg. The tendrils were carefully guided so as not to hit anything vital. The force of the things entering his body had forced him onto his knees. He screamed loudly and sickeningly. It would've made stomachs turn had anyone conscious been within earshot.

When the screaming had given way to whimpers and groans, Greg stepped closer, examining his face, " You know, this looks familiar. Ah, yes, I believe we did this not even three hours ago. You remember what happened then, don't you?" A groan was the only thing that came from Fox's bent head, "Now, then, if you don't cooperate, then I'll just have to kill that old one and that damn bird—"

Fox had raised his head quickly, "Touch them, and I'll…I'll..."

"You'll what? Kill me? Don't make me laugh." The tendrils dug deeper now, twisting around inside of him. More yelps, louder than the first round, emitted from his throat. An angry look came over him, but Gregory knew that it was only to hide how much he was hurting. The apparition grew more impatient, "You seem to not respond well to pain, Mr.McCloud. Perhaps I've been attacking this all wrong."

A snap of the finger, and Falco's body arched. He screamed and cried out in pain, writhing about. Fox tried to lunge for Greg, but was held fast in place by the tendrils. The wailing and writhing didn't seem to have an end in sight. He didn't want to submit to this menace, but he couldn't handle this. He didn't care if he was tortured for his friend's sake, but he never allowed it when it was the other way around. He yelled for Greg to stop. The whole house was suddenly quiet. Falco was still, apparently, writhing and screaming, only Fox couldn't hear him, or anything, except the clacking of military boots getting closer to him and the snap of his fingers, signaling the tendrils to turn loose. The holes that they'd left were barely an inch around. He stuck out his hands to stop the fall, and used that time to catch his breath. Fox was surprised by the sight of the spirits boots coming to a stop right in front of him. He looked up to see the cat standing over him with his arms crossed, waiting for Fox to say something.

Greg noticed how much older Fox looked for a twenty two year old. He had a very tired look in his eyes, his face showed years of stress and strain. And that subtle depressed look hung in his eyes, the same it does in anyone's eyes that've suffered immensely and needlessly. For a moment, Greg almost felt bad for how he was handling him, but reaffirmed himself that it had to be done.

Fox tilted his head back, and closed his eyes and wearily realized, '_I can't fight it anymore. Too many have been hurt on my account._' He reopened his eyes, looking anywhere but Greg's face, "Stop hurting him. I won't fight anymore. Just, please, leave them out of this." His voice was very calm when he uttered these words. The sun had set, and the night reigned. Greg used his power to turn on the lights, which didn't shine brightly. It was more of a soft glow, which made the interior of the house look charming, despite what was true.

A look of triumph came over his features as he uncrossed his arms. The sound of Falco screaming immediately came back to Fox's perked ears, but then started to die down at the snap of Greg's fingers. Falco blinked, and sat up, unaware of what'd just happened. He looked at his body, checking it for injury, but found nothing. The bird looked up to see Fox on his knees looking at someone beyond Falco's field of vision, in the inner part of the foyer. He got up, still checking for any new wounds he'd have to have treated, and started walking towards his friend to help him up off the ground. He didn't really remember how he'd gotten into the living room, only vague images of Greg standing in front of them, looking down on Fox, and seeing a table in front of him approaching very quickly. He also remembered hearing himself screaming bloody murder, and watching himself writhe and arch his body. Falco had seen it all like it was a movie playing before his eyes, feeling every flash of blinding agony. He drove that from his mind when he was almost upon Fox, but he turned his head to see Greg sneering at him, but he didn't say or do anything. Falco didn't understand.

"Fox, what's going on? Fox?" Falco looked at his friend. Fox wasn't making eye contact, and looked like he'd just heard the worst news imaginable. Falco looked from apparition to friend, trying to figure out what was going on, when it dawned on him. He dropped to his knees quickly, grabbing the fox by his upper arms and pulling him within a foot of himself, sounded like a parent who knew his kid had done wrong, but was trying to get the child to confess before punishment, "Fox, tell me you didn't do what I think you did…"

No answer, just deafening silence. Fox did everything he could to keep from having to look at the blue avian. He didn't want to have to bear seeing disappointment in his eyes.

Falco's temper rose uncontrollably, he knew why Fox had agreed. Fox, by then, had brought up his hands defensively, lowly whimpering. The avian roughly and very violently shook Fox, shouting, "No! Not for me! Damn you, you idiot! Not for me! I could've handled it!" At that point, Fox had turned his head towards Falco's, and looked up into his eyes. Falco was surprised by his expression, one he'd rarely and hated to witness: Fear.

The avian didn't know why that look was on his face; either because Falco was being too rough with him, or the idea of being possessed and killing his own father was a little too much for him. It made him nauseous to see this on Fox; it just wasn't natural. That vulpine was known throughout the system (and surrounding ones) for his fearlessness. Whether he was in harm's way, or facing certain death, he'd never relented to fear; soldiers, mercenaries, and cadets had exemplified him because of it.

Falco loosened his grip on Fox; a stunned expression consumed his countenance. Fox looked down. That look that repulsed Falco was still abounding on his own face. Greg stepped closer, still sneering, reveling in all that had just occurred, but mostly in getting Fox to fear him. Mr. Leggett remembered how the captain hadn't shown fear earlier, despite all he saw. It was more shock and determination to get out. It could've been mistaken as fear, but wasn't so pleasing as the real thing.

"Well, now, Mr. Lombardi, are you quite finished?"

He slowly looked from the fox to the cat, "You bastard!" He got up quickly, running to attack him, hurt him anyway he could. Falco passed right threw him while throwing a powerful punch, falling to the floor. He turned from his stomach to his back to see Greg turn into a cloud of black, nearly tangible smoke, wafting in that spot for a moment. It hastily flew forward, not slowing down as it bombarded into Fox's chest quickly, causing his arms to be thrown out violently to his sides while he turned his head up at a 45 degree angle and yelled. The large cloud of smoke was gone in a matter of seconds. When the last of the smoke was in Fox, he started to roughly shake, his head still slightly upturned. Falco had managed to get up, shouting, "No!" and ran to Fox's side with determination. But he couldn't stop it; he was powerless to help his best friend. And that horrible sinking feeling was worse than seeing fear on his captain's face.

Then, all was still. Fox stopped shaking, keeping his head in that position, with his eyes closed. Falco took some sharp breaths, and looked around. No sign of anything. Peppy stirred in the kitchen, moaning and rolling over. Falco eyed Fox, who showed no signs of moving anytime soon, just breathing. The bird decided it'd be ok (or safer for him) to leave his side for a moment, to help Pep.

Grumbling and rubbing his throat, Peppy had managed to stand halfway up when Falco entered the kitchen. He deftly grabbed the old man's arms, helping him up the rest of the way. Slippy had been lying next to him, face down. Falco didn't want to have to explain that one. Peppy looked around, and realized where he was.

"I must've had more to drink than I thought," He caught a glimpse of the outside world through a window, seeing it was nearly totally dark, except for the light from the full moon being cast around the area. The shadows out in the yard made Peppy shiver, remembering nightmares of his youth containing the same shapes. He turned his attention back to the inside of the house, smiling politely, "Where is everyone?"

"You'd better sit down for this…"

* * *

Fox cried out inside his own body, although he knew only Greg could hear. The sound of his mournful cry echoed in his ears, almost mockingly. The suppressing feeling of being cold and alone swept over him in wave after wave. He wondered if this is what Falco felt, but that thought lasted a second as he felt progressively colder, and more alone in the infinite darkness. Fox cried out again, more desperate than the last one. Nothing mattered in this black wasteland. He wanted to die.

* * *

"Oh my god. Gregory, huh? Yeah, I remember him. I always suspected something foul surrounding his disappearance. I had seen him, that day, walking into this house. I was visiting an old friend from our days as cadets. But, what's he want with us, and why now?"

Falco continued telling him all that he'd been informed of. He was barely able to tell Peppy about Slippy being dead, the part where he didn't believe Fox, and what he'd done to him. Pep had rubbed his temples upon hearing what Falco had done. He assured him that he understood, and given the circumstances, would've done the same (although the avian wasn't too sure of the last part).

"So, where's Greg now? And for that matter, where's Fox?"

Falco looked into the foyer, "Come on, it'll be easier to show you." He led the old hare out the doorway. Fox was still seated like he had been, head up, three or four feet from the front door. Falco pointed, "There's Fox and Greg." Peppy put his hands to his mouth; covering up how widely his jaw had dropped.

A groaning sound made Falco sink to his knees by his left side, shaking him gently to get his attention. Greg lowered Fox's head, eyes still shut. Falco persisted in trying to get an intelligible response, "Fox, can you hear me? Are you ok?"

Fox's eyes suddenly opened, and his head turned fast towards the left. His eyes weren't green anymore; they were now an ice blue. The voice that came from Fox's mouth was Greg's when he said, "I'm more than ok. You're friend was hard to suppress, but I eventually overcame him. You should've heard him; fighting and screaming desperately…he was so afraid. I enjoyed every second of it."

"That's enough, Gregory!" Peppy stepped towards Fox's body, seizing his orange neck and bringing him within inches of his face, "I swear, if you hurt him…"

"You'll do what? You couldn't hurt me if you truly wanted to, not as long as I'm in this body." Greg stood up, nearly falling over. He'd forgotten how much he'd damaged him. Warmth filled his body. But, he couldn't heal all the wounds, just the ones caused by other dead beings. The one on his stomach, his leg, his palm, and the throbbing head were healed up immediately. He even managed to get the black eye to go down, so that it was just barely noticeable. The ones caused by Falco and other worldly objects would have to heal on their own, such is one of the many setbacks of living, Greg marveled. He turned his attention back to Peppy and Falco, and smiled with that same sinister look he had earlier when Falco first laid eyes on him.

* * *

So, let me know what y'all think. 


	7. The Fine Line

Chapter 7: The Fine Line Between Right and Wrong is No Longer Black and White

_Well, I had been wanting to see my boy since I faked my death…but not in this manner..._—James McCloud, Sr.

* * *

_Ring-ring-ring._ Somewhere in a Venomian base, a phone rang incessantly. Down a flight of steel stairs, turn left, and in the first dimly lit office on the right, James stirred in his sleep as his phone rang. One green eye opened as he gazed at the new disruption. He kicked his feet grudginglyoff the desk, and leaned forward while picking up the receiver. While listening, he let his eyes wander across the walls, as he was accostomed to do when he was bored.

It was no more than ten by ten, a small amount for someone who'd defected from their number one threat, James often thought. The whole office was a disgusting grey, and with the exception of some pictures on his walls, had absolutely no personality. Opening a drawer in his desk, he glanced at the worn picture he kept hidden of him and Fox at his son'sorientation into the military academy. They both looked so happy then...

After a few moments, he perked his ears as the other end finally said something worth listening to. He slammed the drawer shut, and leaned forward as if the offending party were in front of him. He opened his mouth, protesting in a tired yet firm voice.

"…But sir, he hasn't been giving us any trouble lately—yes, sir, I remember your encounter four years ago—but—no-I don't think that this is-but-no, sir, you don't have to question where my loyalty lies. You know damn well who I align myself with...No, don't send Wolf, I'll do it..." James slammed the phone down, tears of frustrationwelling up in his eyes. He was unaware of the figureleaning inhis doorway, watching him with a sicksmirk. The fox got up, throwing on the jacket that had been slung over the chair carelessly. Starting out the door, he froze when he saw who was standing there.

The wicked countenance of Wolf O'Donnell glowered at him from where he stood. James met his stare, rolled his eyes, then brushed past him without a word. The lupine wasn't so easily passed up. Hejogged up behind James, slowing down to meet his pace,"So, it would seem Lord Andross is finally ready for him, eh? It's only been—what—four years?"

"Shut up. I don't want to talk about this." James snapped, "Wait—why do you care?"

"I just don't see why he would send you for him…I mean, after all, he's your son, how are we to be sure that you will stay faithfull to our lord? Hn, I could just as easily do it, in fact, it would be my distinct pleasure to be the one to present him t—"

James turned sharply, causing Wolf to stop short. The fox stepped closer, almost inches from him, "You'll be shuting up now, unless you want to lose that other eye."

"So protective. I'm fingind it hard to beleive still that you could be so devoted to Lord Andross—" Leon stepped around the corner then, carrying a clipboard while absentmindedly scribbling on it. Wolf grabbed him as he was passing, pullingthe surprised lizardinto the conversation, "—so maybe you should take one of us with you."

Leon'sconfusion subsided as he realized that Andross had finally issued the order he often spoke of, and apparently was sending the father to retrieve the son. A smile to match Wolf's spread across his scaley face. Leon had been promised some time with the younger McCloud to do what he wished. He'd spent the last year repairing his tools, and retreiving newer and more painfull ones. Needless to say, it seemed it was all he could do to keep from giggling like a school girl.

James looked at Leon, "You won't touch him either."

"Oh, well, I'm afraid that's not up to you, old friend. His lordship made sure we'd have ample time to work out our frustrations on your bo—" James delt a hard blow to his jaw in mid-sentence, sending him falling back onto Wolf, who caught him only to throw him to the ground as he rushed the fox.

James's head hit the wall hard, but not hard enough. He returned that maneuver with a knee to the gut, while Wolf doubled over. He then slammed his elbow into the back of his head, sending him instantly to the ground. Leon had recovered, and was about to strike when a large hand grabbed and wretched his wrist. The lizard dropped to his knees with a yelp, causing Wolf and James to stop and look.

Immediately kneeling, they put their right fisted hands over their hearts, heads low. Andross let go of Leon, who assumed the same position with some noted grumbling. The ape looked much more muscular than when he'd first come across Fox. He'd been tirelessly training both his body and mind to be prepared for the second encounter with the young vulpine. He'd make an example of him for sure this time.

"I'll not have this in my base. McCloud,you're behavior gives me due cause to beleive that you may notbe the right man for this job—"

"I'd never do such a thing, Lord Andross. I've pledged myself to you, and only you."

"I'm not so sure. O'Donnel, looks like you get your wish. You go with him," hewaited until the two were down thecorridor and around the corner before heturned to Leon with a smirk, "I believe you have some instruments to prepare. Go."

James winced at the thought of his son on the bloody table, crying out in agony. And worse, the thought of his son's face when he realized his father had handed him over to his sadistic mortal enemy.

Andross headed the other way down the hall, smiling to himself with his arms behind his back. Leon followed shortly behind, like a well trained puppy.

* * *

The possessed Fox's eyes flickered for a moment, still focusing on the two in front of him. His smile grew wider. He knew his plan had worked. The pair before him seemed to be confused by his change of expression. He figured it wouldn't hurt to enlighten them.

"It would seem that all my work is finally paying off. James and Wolf are on their way here."

Falco stared wide eyed, "What! What do you mean they're on their way!"

"Hm, I suppose you could say that I 'influenced' Andross into the belief that now's the time to act. It's most funny; he boasts about his mental powers, yet I hardly had to infaltrate his mind at all. I guess when your anger and hate is focused on one person above all others, it doesn't take much convincing to get them motivated."

"You're going to get Fox killed!" Falco barely had enough time to belt this out before hisbody flew back violently, crashing into Peppy. They both fell back into the wall as Fox's arm was repositioned back to his side.

"The ends justify the means. If I don't kill James, then the army Andross is raising will know all the secrets of the Cornerian defenses: Where all the troops are, where the weapons are being manufactured now, what their strategy is,...everything they could have to hide from him. After I handle thi sboy's father, I can go on to stop Andross from destroying this system as I swore to do when I dawned the uniform and affirmed the oath...much like you all have done. Can you tell me that your friend would disapprove of this action?"

The pair were silent. They knew, deep in their hearts, that Fox would die to save the system, without inhibitions.

* * *

In the dark reaches of his mind's prison, Fox dryly wept. He felt like he'd been there for weeks, maybe months even. The waves of despair he had felt washing over him had ceased, but only because, he was sure, that it was impossible to feel any more lonely and desolate. He slowly brought his knees up to his chest, lowering his head to rest on them.

Vaguely, he wondered if death felt like this. And he wondered if it was possible that in fact, he was dead. He couldn't be sure anymore. A tear rolled down his cheek as he screamed in agony of the thought.

* * *

An increasingly loud revving filled the hanger of the base as the large and new warmachine prepared to blast off into the stretching universe, towards Lylat...towards Corneria. James checked the maps, star-flux reports, and projectile equations one last time while his accomplice cheerfully flipped the necessary switches, pressed the buttons, and took the controls into his eager paws. The fox grumbled, flipping one piece of paper over and over, looking relieved at something.

"Hey, Dingus, you failed to calculate exactly how we're going to get within Corneria's airspace undetected."

"Well, if you weren't such a pussy, you could've done it yourself. And yes I did. Check this out, " he handed him a folded paper from his pocket which showed a diagram of a strange piece of machinery, "See that? That's the new toy I installed after our last round with the Lylatian forces, from one of their ships. It's a piece of equipment featuredin all their fighters, freighters, and miscellaneous star-craft. It's quite new.

"When their radar signal from the Lylatian defense satellitesbounces off this, it'll recognize it as friendly aircraft, and won't dispatch automated defenses to us. Currently, our machine is programmed to be read as a small merchant ship en route to Corneria.You see now? We're the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing."

"...I know how this works...I'm the one who downloaded the information on these and gave it to Lord Andross." His voice conveyed the annoyance of his partner's assinine behavior.

"Yeah, but I figured the report was so full of big words, you might need me to break it down in layman terms."

The ship gave a small kick, and the thrusters blasted to life, propelling the craft forward. James leaned back in his seat from the sudden movement, then sat rigidly staring out into the infinent stars. His mind was racing, his palms were sweaty, and that sickening lurching feeling in the pit of his stomach was becoming more and more prominent. Wolf, however, was quite the opposite. Smiling, feeling better than he had in days, and most excited about what was going to transpire.

* * *

Falco had, in the seconds that passed, managed to get back to his feet. Peppy had followed suit after a lingering moment. The avian grabbed his shoulder, the pain coming back in dull throbs. Fox's body stood motionless,iceblue eyestransfixed upon them both, expecting them to answer him. Falco finally got aggrivated, and broke the silence, "...Well, no...but regardless..."

He was losing ground, and he knew it. This...thing...was stronger, faster, and smarter than him. He couldn't do anything to stop him...or could he. After all, all that strength and speed factored in, his body was still a weak anthropomorphic one. A surprise hit in the right area would render him unconcious, just like any other person. Falco stepped out off the way of the door. Peppy glared at him confused, or at least so until he saw the look the bird had on his face.

"I'm glad you finally quit your futile attempts to hinder me. Now come, we've got plenty to do," He made his way for the door while Falco walked around him, next to the phone that was on the table. Slowly, while Greg's back was turned, he reached for it, closing his fingers around the bulk of it. Peppy had already caught on, and had fetched the door for the possessed body. Greg had barely made it across the threshold outside when Falco practically lept across the distance between them, striking him upside the head with all the strength he could muster before hobbling backwards while gripping his shoulder. The phone gave a slight ring when ithad made contact; sendinga splash of blood across the porch and the ceiling.Fox's body went limp and fell straight down, almost hitting the floor had the hare not jumped forth and caught him. Looking around, they pulled the unconcious form back into the house, closing the door.

Falco went through every drawer he could find, grabbing anything that could be used to bind. He found a stash of handcuffs in the table where the phone had been, and some rope in the living room, along with a great pile of things the vulpine might need on missions.

Peppy had sat on the floor with the fox leaning against him, and had busied himselfwith trying to stop the bleeding from the wound. Only after applying some serious pressure did it start to taper off. Falco reappeared in the room when the blood finally stopped, and had violently thrown Fox onto his stomach, pulling his arms behind his back and double cuffing them. Peppy had caught on to the idea, and took the rope from his friend and started binding the boy's ankles and knees.

They both stood back when the job was complete, looking on as the body lay prone on the floor, chest rising and falling calmly.


End file.
